The Trouble with Crash Landings
by Titan5
Summary: A tag to The Ark in which John experiences the repercussions of his rough landing.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **This is a tag to The Ark, written for Shelly. She requested a tag that filled in some of the whump that should have been there, but was blatantly ignored (as per usual). Obviously, there are spoilers for The Ark.

Special thanks to parisindy and her friend Lori for some really good ideas and help with the medical stuff. Any mistakes in that area are totally mine because I drew a lot from internet research as well.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of its characters.

The Trouble with Crash Landings - Chapter 1

John let his eyes open slowly, adjusting to the morning light streaming in through his window. He lay looking at it for a moment before he realized there was more light than there should be, meaning that he had slept late. He started to roll over so he could check the time, but the multitude of pains that shot through him brought him quickly back to his original position of lying on his back. He groaned loudly, taking full advantage of the fact that he was alone.

"What the . . . " Then it hit him, why his back and neck felt like every muscle had been stretched beyond their limits and his shoulders felt as if he'd hung from his arms all night. The shuttle landing. Actually it was more like hitting the dirt from a very high altitude than a landing. He groaned again, realizing that this meant he'd be sore for several days, with the next couple being completely miserable. He'd gone this route once before when a test plane he was piloting had gone down, plowing a furrow similar to the one he'd left yesterday. Happy he hadn't been seriously injured, he'd been shocked the next day when he was so sore he could barely move. A second trip to the infirmary had yielded some righteous muscle relaxants and he figured he just might have to make a similar repeat visit with Carson on this one.

He jumped when his radio buzzed, gritting his teeth as he twisted enough to snag his headset from the table. He was almost breathless by the time he had it hooked in place.

"Sheppard here."

"_John, it's Elizabeth. I was about to head to breakfast and wondered if you had eaten yet?"_

John brought his arm up to look at his watch. It was almost 0700. Definitely slept late. "Uh, no, I haven't. How about I meet you there in, uh, twenty minutes?"

"_All right, that sounds good. I'll see you in twenty minutes."_

John took a deep breath and rolled over on his side, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up. Fiery pain lanced through his right side and into his chest, taking his breath away and making his head swim for a moment. When the dizziness finally dissipated, John was left shaking, his entire body screaming at him not to move any more.

"You've really done it this time, John." He sat for a few seconds, working up his nerve before pushing himself to his feet with a loud groan and shuffling to the bathroom. This was gong to be a long day.

oOo

Elizabeth finally spotted John coming through the doors to the mess hall, almost ten minutes late. He paused and looked around, giving a small smile and nod when he saw her before getting into the food line. She crossed her arms, preparing her lecture about colonels who were tardy for their appointments. As she watched him however, her attitude slowly changed. He was slightly slumped over, barely scraping his feet along and grimacing every time he had to lift his arms to take a plate or cup. When his tray was full, he made his way over to the table, cautiously setting his plate down and easing into the chair across from her.

"John . . . are you okay?"

John winced as he shifted his seat forward and then puffed out a breath. "Yeah."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes as she smirked. "You don't look all right. And I have the feeling you were still in bed when I called this morning."

John rested his right hand on the table as he hung his fork over the edge of the tray, poking his imitation scrambled eggs. "I was awake."

"And how long had you been awake?" When he didn't answer, she leaned forward. "I'll take that to mean not long. That's pretty late for you. You're usually up way before dawn running with Ronon."

"I know, but he's not supposed to run for a couple of days to give his shoulder some time to heal. I seem to have a bad case of the _day afters_."

Elizabeth cocked her head slightly. "The day afters?"

"You ever been in a car wreck, one that throws you all over the car?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Actually, yes." Understanding flooded her expression. "And the day after the wreck I hurt all over."

John smiled as he picked up a piece of bacon. "Exactly. I don't think there is one square inch of me that doesn't hurt." He took a bite of the bacon and chewed, deciding that was probably the most strenuous thing he wanted to do all day.

"Well, it's no wonder lad, the way that shuttle plowed into the ground." John and Elizabeth looked around to see Carson standing beside Elizabeth. "Mind if I join you?"

"No, Carson, have a seat," said Elizabeth. "Looks like we're all having a late breakfast this morning."

Carson sat down and then looked across the table at John. "I've actually been expecting you in the infirmary. I figured you might need something to take the edge off after that spectacular crash landing yesterday. My empty stomach finally got the best of me, though."

John smiled. "Believe it or not, that was going to be my first stop after breakfast."

Carson nodded as he forked his pancakes. "Good. I need to give you another once over. It occurred to me after you left last night that the only check up I gave you was that quick one right after the crash. I should have done a more thorough exam after that ride you took."

John finished chewing his food as he shook his head. "You said I was okay, Doc, and I am. All I need is some muscle relaxers or some of your double strength ibuprofen."

Carson eyed John carefully. "How's the headache?"

"Not the worst of my aches and pains, that's for sure. And I still don't have a concussion."

"Borderline at best, colonel. I'm pretty sure you lost consciousness for a few moments."

John grinned slyly as he lifted a biscuit to his mouth. "Probably just delayed radio waves or something," he murmured.

Carson snorted. "Delayed, indeed. You, colonel, will accompany me back to the infirmary after we finish here, is that clear?"

"Fine, Doc, I'll go. You'll just have to walk slowly. Is Teyla still there?"

Carson shook his head. "No, I've already released her, but I told her to take it easy the rest of the day."

"Looks like most of John's team will be taking it easy for a day or two," commented Elizabeth. "You four can always find trouble."

"I resent that," said John defensively. "We don't _always _find trouble . . . okay, so we find trouble a lot . . . or rather trouble finds us . . . could we talk about something else?" John grimaced against the pain in his neck as he bowed his head while Carson and Elizabeth laughed.

oOo

"You seem a little tender there," said Carson, prodding the right side of John's ribcage.

John was frowning as he lay on the table with his shirt pulled up to his armpits. "I'm bruised Carson. I was thrown around a little during the landing, as we have discussed before. Why are we doing this again?"

Undaunted, Carson continued to probe John's side, eliciting a groan from the man. "Carson, stop. I'm sore for heaven's sake. Can't you take an X-ray or use the Ancient scanner or something that doesn't hurt?"

Carson straightened and looked down at Sheppard. "Well, I'm pretty sure there are no fractures, but it looks like you've bruised your ribs pretty well. I think I'll run a scan just to be sure." He paused grinning down at his highly annoyed patient. "This will give me a chance to fulfill Elizabeth's request that you have your head examined."

John stared blankly at Carson for several seconds before deadpanning, "Funny."

"Happy to be of service, colonel. You just stay put for a minute while we get ready. If your scan is clear, then I'll give you something for the pain and let you go."

"That's all I ask, Doc. Didn't think this would be so much trouble."

Carson gently patted his shoulder. "No trouble, colonel. It's a small price to pay to make sure you're all right. I'll be right back."

John pulled his shirt down and tried to relax, his muscles aching from the movement and his rib cage on fire from the doctor's probing. He closed his eyes and remembered the violent jolt when the shuttle hit the ground. He realized the next few seconds were a jumble of pain and disjointed glimpses of movement and flying dirt. He had no actual memory of the craft coming to a stop, meaning there was a good chance he was unconscious by then.

"John? Did Carson find anything?"

John opened his eyes to see Elizabeth standing beside the bed. "Possible bruised ribs. He wants to run a scan just to be safe and then I'm out of here."

"Out of here if the scan is clear," said Carson as he joined them, his tone and expression scolding the pilot.

John grinned lazily. "It will be. I'm _fine_ Doc."

"Well, you'll excuse me if I wait for the test results before making my final decision." Carson nodded at Elizabeth. "Hello, Elizabeth. I'm going to borrow the colonel for a few minutes, but he'll be right back."

Carson extended his hand to help John sit up and the pilot accepted, not so hard headed he'd refuse help he knew he needed. He even allowed the doctor to give him a hand sliding off the table, grunting slightly when his feet hit the floor.

"Easy, colonel. We don't want to injure you further."

"Doc," John warned, "I told you, I'm not injured. Just sore."

"Right, colonel, just sore. I'm doing the scan anyway."

Elizabeth grinned at the friendly banter, watching as Carson led John to the scanner and helped the stiffening man up on the table. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the wall and remembered the last time she had watched the scanner at work. John's DNA was being altered at the time by Carson's retrovirus and she shuddered at the terrifying events in the days that followed. Relief flooded her to think this scan was just to determine if her military leader's ribs were broken or bruised. She much preferred this scenario to the last one.

oOo

John walked slowly to the dresser in his quarters as the door slid shut behind him. Opening the bottle of water sitting there, he downed one of the pills Carson had given him. His head and most of his torso seemed to be screaming at him to lie down and be still for a few hours and that was exactly what he intended to do. Carson's scan had confirmed that his ribs were only bruised from their impact with the control panel in the shuttle and that he did not have a brain contusion or skull fracture. The good doctor had given him some of his 800mg ibuprofen and orders to take it easy for a few days before setting him free.

Rodney had appeared before he got very far from the infirmary and he'd spent the next three hours in his lab, mostly answering inane questions and listening to Rodney babble on about some Ancient device that he periodically had John activate. By the time the colonel escaped, a military question had evolved in the weapons room and he'd been called in to settle it. That led to more questions about what seemed to be missing ammunition that turned out to be misplaced rather than missing. Six hours after leaving Carson's grasp, John was finally back in his quarters and ready for that rest the doctor had called for. And boy was he ready for that rest.

After easing himself down on the bed and squirming into a position that didn't put pressure on some overly battered part of his anatomy, John let out a deep breath, willing himself to relax. Forcing his aches into the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware of the pain level starting to slide down a notch just as he drifted off to sleep.

A loud clattering sound jarred him awake what seemed like minutes later. Defensive reflexes kicked in and he rolled off the far side of the bed, hitting the floor with a grunt as he struggled to see what was happening. He blinked several times before he realized the reason he couldn't see anything was because the room was dark.

"Colonel, where did you go? Are you crawling around on the floor over there?"

John recognized Rodney's voice and slumped against the side of the bed. He'd managed to wake all his strained muscles and bruises with shocking clarity and he was almost immobilized by it for a few minutes.

"Sheppard?" The worry in the physicist's voice had edged up a bit and he came around the bed to look down on the crumpled pilot. "Are you okay?"

"Fine . . . just startled me."

"Oh, I didn't . . . I'm sorry, I didn't realize. It was getting late and Lorne said he was pretty sure you ended up skipping lunch taking care of some military stuff and Elizabeth said you were pretty banged up and you acted kind of bummed up earlier, so I brought you some supper."

John used the bed to pull himself up and eventually make it to a standing position. He thought the lights up just far enough they could see and turned to face Rodney. "Isn't there some kind of law against talking that fast? Anyway, it's okay, I'm fine. What time is it anyway?" he asked as he walked awkwardly over to the chair to sit down.

"Oh, uh, it's nearly eight," he answered, glancing at his watch. Taking a seat across the table from John, he pointed to the tray. "I just brought a sandwich and some Jell-o since it was so late."

"That's fine, thanks," responded John, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He began unwrapping his sandwich, increasingly aware of eyes boring into him. He finally dropped the food back on the tray and looked up at Rodney. "What?"

"Nothing," Rodney said through tight lips.

John shook his head once and then stopped when it felt like his eyeballs were rolling around like billiard balls, making the room spin. "Don't tell me nothing when there's obviously something. What's wrong?"

Rodney glared at him for a moment before looking down at the table. "You should be dead."

John almost choked on the bite he'd just taken. He coughed and sputtered a few times before grabbing his water and trying to wash the offending bite down. Almost slamming the bottle down on the table, he narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, you should be dead, toasted ashes drifting on the wind along with the remains of that moon. There's no way the shuttle should have survived that blast. There's no way you should be sitting there eating a sandwich. By all rights, you should be dead."

John sat staring at Rodney for several seconds. "Sorry to disappoint you, McKay." He bit off another hunk of sandwich and dropped it on the plate.

"That's not it," said Rodney hesitantly. "We thought you were dead. For a minute, I really thought you'd done it this time."

John stopped chewing and then swallowed suddenly as he looked down at his plate, fingering the edge of the bread. "I'm not dead, Rodney. I'm fine."

"When are you going to stop doing that? I don't make friends easily and I'm beginning to remember why. Sometimes I think this is entirely too much work. How many times are you going to make us think you're dead, because if you're going for the record, I think you broke it our first year here."

John's brow furrowed in a frown as he looked up at Rodney and reestablished eye contact. "I do what has to be done, McKay and sometimes that's dangerous. I'm just doing my job, trying to keep all of you alive. I'm sorry if that tries your patience. Maybe I just shouldn't have friends. Feel free to disassociate yourself from me at any time, you wouldn't be the first."

The anger dropped from Rodney's expression as he sighed and rubbed his face. "That's not what I meant. It's just . . . you have people who care about you here and we're getting old before our time worrying. Lorne's getting gray hairs from all the times you've almost died and left him in charge."

The corner of John's mouth turned up slightly against his will. "He is not."

Rodney's expression lightened and he nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, yes he is. He found the first one yesterday and he said he's pretty sure it turned when that moon blew up and we thought you had blown up with it."

John looked back at Rodney, his expression questioning.

Rodney responded by shrugging his shoulders and holding his hands out. "Hey, ask him if you don't believe me."

John snorted and grinned. "Gray hairs, huh? That's a new one." He grimaced as he straightened in his chair. "Look, I just do what I have to do to protect my people and that's never going to change. If that means almost dying . . . if it someday means dying for real, then that's the way it has to be. It's who I am Rodney, take it or leave it."

Rodney frowned at the pilot for a moment before giving a quick nod. "I know. I guess I've known that for a long time. Doesn't make it any less scary and it doesn't make me like it. But . . . I guess I can live with it. I guess I have to."

They sat looking at each other in quiet acceptance for several moments before the silence became awkward. John finally reached for his Jell-o. "Thanks Rodney."

"That's okay, I was going to the mess hall for some coffee anyway."

John smiled down at his bowl. "That's not what I meant," he said softly.

oOo

Day two wasn't turning out too much better than day one had. John woke to find himself just as sore and stiff as the day before. A long, hot shower had helped, along with one of the good doctor's pills, but John still found himself moving slowly and carefully through the halls. Deciding that sitting and lying around just served to make the stiffness worse, he had elected to walk around and take care of some minor things that he'd been putting off.

By late morning, he admitted to himself that this had been the way to go. Although still achy, he wasn't nearly as stiff, his muscles loosening with the gentle activity. Hearing noises from the gym, he stepped into the room to find several marines involved in training exercises. He was both surprised and not surprised to see Ronon in the middle of the activities. When the three soldiers currently on the mat were quite literally flat on their backs, he made his way closer to the former runner.

"Ronon, I thought you were supposed to be giving that shoulder time to heal."

"I'm fine," the big man rumbled, a feral grin on his face as he searched for his next set of victims.

John smirked and crossed his arms. "So if I call Beckett and ask him if you are supposed to be doing this, he'll tell me you're cleared, right?"

Ronon's grin quickly morphed into a scowl. "You're ruining my fun, Sheppard."

"Hey, just trying to keep my favorite body guard in tact. If you get yourself knocked out of commission for a while, who's gonna keep me out of trouble?"

Ronon sighed long and hard and then walked over to pick up a towel lying on the bench across one side of the room. "Fine, I'll quit. You're just afraid, Sheppard."

John grinned as he followed. "You're right. I'm afraid of what Beckett will do to the both of us if he finds out you were fighting and I just stood by and let you."

Ronon wiped the sweat from his face and shoulders, wincing only slightly when he raised his injured arm. "For a doctor, he can be pretty scary when he wants to be," Ronon admitted.

John could hear the marines resuming their sparring behind him. "Like any of us could ever hurt Ronon," someone muttered. John smiled as he was filled with pride for his friend. He knew the soldier was probably right, that Ronon would most likely be fine. He just wasn't prepared to take that chance.

"Had lunch yet?" asked John.

Ronon hung the towel around his neck and then turned back to John. "Not yet."

John nodded. "Okay, why don't we – "

One of the sparring marines was sent flying backwards straight into John as he stood at the edge of the mat. Propelled forward into Ronon, the two men were sent tumbling to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. The violent impact with the floor knocked the breath from John, and he spent several seconds just trying to suck in some oxygen.

"Colonel, Ronon, are you guys all right?"

The near panicked voice of one of his marines plowed through the fog currently hanging around John's brain. Bringing the room back into focus, he saw Sgt. Monroe looking worriedly down at him and Ronon.

"Fine," said Ronon as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, pushing into John's right side as he did so.

John grunted as dots danced across his vision once again and a sharp pain pierced his ribcage. Crap that hurt.

"Sheppard, you okay?" asked Ronon.

John finally managed to catch his breath and roll his head over to look at the Satedan. "Fine," he croaked in a not so convincing manner. Seeing the concern in everyone's face, he decided the best course of action was to show them he was okay so he could make his way to his quarters and collapse on his own bed. Getting his hands on the floor, he pushed himself up so that he was sitting beside Ronon. The pain took his breath away again and he tried to hide it behind a smirk.

"I think attacking . . . a superior officer . . . is on the list of things . . . not to do in the military," he quipped somewhat breathlessly.

"I am so sorry, sir. It was my fault. I got a little carried away and hit Munos too hard, sir. It was an accident, I assure you."

John looked up at the pleading and terrified face of a young lieutenant he was unfamiliar with. "Just kidding Lt., no harm done. I'm glad to see you so enthusiastic about your training." John had to smile at the overwhelming relief that spread across the young soldier's face. Aware that Ronon was climbing to his feet, he used the wall for support so he could do the same. Once on his feet, he noticed the whole room standing there staring at him.

"Well, what are you looking at? Are you guys training or what?" he asked sharply.

"Yes, sir," several of them said loudly and in unison.

John looked up at Ronon. "Let's get out of here before we get pummeled again."

Ronon grinned as they walked out the door. "Speak for yourself, Sheppard. I was having fun."

John sighed. "Figures."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The Trouble with Crash Landings - Chapter 2

John finally gave up trying to sleep at 0430. He'd gone to bed early, feeling exhausted after a day of wandering around Atlantis and serving as an impromptu bowling pin. The first few hours had been peaceful, until he woke up around midnight to go to the bathroom. He would have tossed and turned since then, but he was too sore to move around that much. He wondered how pathetic it was that he couldn't even have a decent case of insomnia.

After a few minutes of grunting and struggling, he managed to pull himself out of bed and make it to the shower. He was pretty sure the time he spent under the hot spray of water would be the highlight of his day. Tension and soreness seemed to run down his body and out the drain with the water, almost making him feel relaxed enough to try crawling back into bed. Almost.

Instead he pulled on some light pants, a t-shirt, and his running shoes. Nervous energy seemed to fill him, making it hard to sit or lay still. He knew he needed to be in motion. There was no way he was able to run with his sore ribs, but he could certainly walk.

Halfway to the east pier, he had second thoughts. His side was burning and his chest felt constricted and tight. He found himself out of breath to the point of almost being dizzy. Sliding down the wall, he sat with his knees bent and his arms draped across them, pulling in fast, shallow breaths. He thought about calling for help, but his stubbornness won out and he convinced himself he could go back after he'd rested.

Twenty minutes later, he felt much better. He made sure his trip back was slow, taking his time and stopping to rest a few times. When he made it to his quarters, he eased himself down on the bed and back against the pillows. An uneasy sleep soon followed. Drifting in and out, he felt unsettled, too exhausted to get up and too nervous to sleep.

John left his quarters again at 0930 and once again began wandering. Breakfast was out. His stomach rebelled at even the thought of food or coffee. He stopped by the firing range and found several men having target practice. Major Lorne seemed to be overseeing the exercises.

"Major, how are they doing?" John tried to sound official and had even changed into his uniform, but he had also seen his reflection in the mirror and knew he didn't look very imposing this morning. Lorne seemed to be studying him, making John wish he'd never stopped by.

"They're doing quite well, actually. Um, sir, if you don't mind my saying, you don't really look like you should be on your feet. Could I help you back to your quarters, or maybe the infirmary?"

"I'm fine, Lorne, remember? I just didn't sleep well. Too much resting the last couple of days and it finally caught up with me."

Lorne nodded. They both understood that once your body acclimated to getting very little sleep, too much sleep sometimes threw off your rhythm. "Okay, if you're sure. You're not on duty yet, are you?"

John sighed, having forgotten that Beckett took him completely off the roster until his ribs had a chance to heal. "No, I'm not on duty," John admitted forlornly, "just incredibly bored."

Lorne smiled and nodded once again. "I understand, sir. Maybe you could read some more of your book."

John squinted at Lorne, making a distasteful face. "No, I think I can find something else to keep me occupied."

"You could always go bug Dr. McKay in his lab. That's always good for a laugh."

John's expression brightened. "Good idea, Major. I think I'll do just that. Carry on." John nodded at Lorne and then headed for the labs. His quick exit made his side hurt and his breathing strained, so he stopped for a second to lean against the wall. Two women from the Biology Department looked at him oddly as they walked down the hall, so he smiled and waved at them. They seemed to relax and nodded back to him. Pushing away from the wall, he wondered just how bad he looked.

Several minutes later, he turned down the hall leading to Rodney's lab and had to smile when he immediately heard loud voices. If he ever went blind, he'd still be able to find Rodney's lab just by following the noise.

"Rodney, that is not right. I tell you that will overload the system and shut down the whole thing." Radek's voice was loud and pitched a bit higher than normal. Sounded like something big.

"And as usual, you have no idea what you're talking about. The buffers we put in place are more than enough to handle any power surges. You're just saying it won't work because I say that it will."

"Rodney, that is most ridiculous thing you say all week, and you say some pretty ridiculous things. Why would I do that? I merely do not want to blow up in order to stroke your ever expanding ego."

John leaned against the door, watching the two scientists argue, each advancing into the other man's personal space just a little with every verbal jab.

"_My_ every expanding ego? Please. Have you listened to yourself lately? You're after my job and you know it."

Radek opened his mouth to answer, even bringing his hand up to wave his finger in McKay's face, when he spotted John watching them. Dropping his hand and turning slightly as he stepped back from Rodney, he addressed John.

"Oh, Colonel Sheppard, we did not see you standing there. Is there something you want?"

John straightened and stepped into the lab, almost stumbling as his knees threatened to buckle. Catching the back of a chair with his hand, he managed to steady himself, unnerved by the sudden loss of strength.

"Colonel?" called Radek, taking a step toward John, but then stopping when the pilot managed to stay upright.

John smiled sheepishly, hoping they couldn't read the fear that was beginning to creep in. His side was really starting to throb and he felt like Ronon was sitting on his chest, making it hard to breathe. "Sorry, clumsy this morning."

Rodney eyed him uncertainly. "You look kind of pale today, ghostlike in fact. Are you sure you're okay?"

John nodded. "I'm good. Just checking in with you, you know, to see if I could help. I'm kind of bored just sitting around."

Rodney shook his head. "No, nothing today. Radek and I are having a slight difference of opinion on something, but it's not anything you can help with. Over your head, I'm afraid. You might be better off going back to your quarters to lie down before you fall down."

John let the insult pass, the feeling of something being wrong increasing almost exponentially by the minute. He was taking shallow breaths to keep down the pain in his ribcage, but he didn't feel like he was pulling in enough air. The first seeds of panic were beginning to germinate in his gut and he had a sudden urgent desire to be in the infirmary.

"Right." Forgetting the men in front of him, John turned and headed for the infirmary, walking as quickly as he could without jarring his ribs too badly.

"That was odd," said Rodney.

Radek frowned, still looking at the doorway. "Colonel Sheppard didn't look well."

"No, he didn't. Let's run a simulation with the new buffers in place and then I'll go check on him." Rodney moved over to the computer and began typing, trying to ignore the feeling that something was very wrong.

John was almost halfway to the infirmary when he had to stop and lean against the wall for support. He was panting, but his chest hurt and he felt like he was suffocating. The panic of not getting enough air was spreading as his chest burned with the effort to draw in oxygen. Sliding to the floor, he fought to remain upright as he clicked his radio.

"Sheppard . . . to Beckett."

"_Colonel? What's wrong?"_

John figured he must sound pretty bad because the concern in the doctor's voice was obvious. "Doc . . . trouble breathing . . . chest hurts . . . "

"_Where are you?"_

"Half way . . . between . . . Rodney's lab . . . and infirmary." It seemed to take entirely too much effort to talk, stealing precious air away from other parts of his body. The edges of his vision darkened and for a moment, he was sure he would pass out.

"_Hang on, lad, we're on our way."_

John's vision swam as he fought to breathe. The only things he was aware of were the pain and the lack of air that threatened to pull him under for good. The memory of having his head held under water during a torture session until he ran out of air and sucked water into his lungs suddenly popped in his head, increasing the sense of panic. Just before everything faded away, he heard voices and felt hands touching him. He couldn't seem to grasp what was happening, but suddenly something was pressed to his face, allowing him to get a little more air. He let the darkness come, knowing at least now he wasn't alone.

oOo

Carson Beckett jogged a few steps ahead of the medical team pushing the gurney. Sheppard didn't call for help unless he was desperate and he'd sounded pretty desperate on the radio. Carson was already running possibilities through his mind to explain the symptoms the pilot had complained of. Turning a corner, he saw Rodney and Radek approach and kneel beside the colonel, who was sitting slumped against the wall gasping for breath.

"Carson, hurry, he can't breathe!" yelled Rodney, his voice even more panicked than the wide-eyed expression on his face.

"I know, Rodney, now get out of the way," ordered the doctor sternly. Rodney almost fell over backwards in his attempt to back quickly away from Sheppard.

Sheppard had his right arm clutched to his side with his hand angling up to the right side of his chest. Breaths were coming in quick, shallow gasps and his face was scrunched up as if he were in pain. Carson grabbed his left wrist to take his pulse as the gurney and equipment caught up to them.

"Colonel, stay with me lad. Can you tell me where you hurt exactly?"

In response, John began sliding over sideways, his eyelids fluttering for a second as if he were trying to open them.

"Get me the oxygen," Carson ordered as he eased John down and onto his back. One of the nurses strapped an oxygen mask on the pilot's face just as his features went slack and his eyes closed again. Carson leaned forward and listened with his stethoscope for several seconds, moving the end around several times as he frowned.

"Decreased breath sounds on the right side . . . we've got a wee bit of a problem. Let's get him loaded and on his way to the infirmary." Rodney and Radek stepped up to help transfer Sheppard to the gurney. "Easy does it," warned Beckett, not wanting to jar his patient any further. As soon as Sheppard was loaded, they hurried down the hall toward the infirmary.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Rodney, almost running down the hall after Carson.

"I'll talk to you later, Rodney, I've got to go with the colonel," answered Carson, turning the corner without looking back. He didn't notice if Rodney continued to follow because he was too busy radioing ahead to the infirmary.

oOo

Rodney paced back and forth muttering to himself until he pivoted around to see Elizabeth, Ronon, and Teyla flow into the waiting area of the infirmary. "About time, I wasn't aware I needed to give you directions."

"We came as fast as we could," said Elizabeth, ignoring the jab in the interests of peace. "What happened?"

Rodney sighed and shook his head. "Weren't you listening? Why do I even bother talking? I told you, he collapsed in the hall and Carson wisked him off here. He was clutching his right side and maybe his chest and he was having a heck of a hard time breathing." Rodney paused and slumped his shoulders as the anger left him. "He didn't look good."

Teyla gently touched his forearm, waiting until he turned to make eye contact before speaking. "Dr. Beckett will take good care of John," she said softly.

Rodney just grunted as he ran his free hand through his hair. "I don't know what could have happened. He crashes a space shuttle into the ground, making a pretty good replica of the Grand Canyon, and then walks away. Now he collapses from walking down the hall. Could this be some kind of . . . " Rodney's hands flailed for a moment as he searched for words. "I don't know, delayed reaction or something?"

"Could be, Rodney," said Elizabeth. "Whatever it is, Carson will figure it out and let us know. Now just try to settle down."

Rodney scowled and started pacing again. "Easy for you to say. You didn't see his fish-out-of-water impression."

Elizabeth exchanged a look with Teyla and Ronon, which Rodney ignored. A few minutes later, they all turned at the sound of Carson walking toward them.

"Carson, what's the verdict?" asked Elizabeth.

"The x-rays show a rather large hemothorax on the right side. Basically, he's got blood in space around his right lung and it's making it hard for him to breathe. Plus there's the blood loss to deal with. We're going to insert a chest tube to drain the blood away and we'll be replacing the blood he's lost as well. It shouldn't take long."

"How did this happen?" asked Ronon.

"Did it have anything to do with the shuttle crash?" asked Elizabeth.

Carson nodded. "Probably. I still don't detect any broken ribs, but apparently the force he impacted the console with was enough to cause some internal bleeding, probably from the chest wall. It's been slowly building over the last couple of days. You're more likely to see a delayed hemothorax with broken ribs, but it's not unheard of to have it without them. There was nothing on his x-rays the other day when I examined him."

"It's all right, Carson, no one's blaming you," offered Elizabeth sincerely.

Carson sighed and pursed his lips briefly. "I should have had him come in for another exam, just to be safe. I saw the bloody trench that shuttle left and I know our Colonel Sheppard's ability to find trouble. It was negligent."

Rodney snorted. "Okay, you know I'm usually the one on the voodoo magic of medicine bandwagon, but you're not psychic. How often does this kind of thing happen, anyway?"

Carson rubbed the side of his face. "Not that often, but it's not really rare either. I should have been more careful."

"And you said it is usually associated with broken ribs, which the colonel did not have?" said Teyla.

"Aye."

"Then get over yourself and get Sheppard drained, or whatever it is you're doing. He did his usual weird almost dying thing to scare us, so go fix him already," said Rodney, waving one hand in the air.

Carson smiled in spite of himself. "Well, that may be a tad overly dramatic, but I appreciate the vote of confidence. He should be fine once we get some of the blood drained. I'll let you know when we're done."

Carson headed back through the doors to where they had taken Sheppard, leaving the colonel's team to wait once again.

oOo

Elizabeth glanced at her watch for what seemed like the twentieth time. She was surprised each time she looked to see it had still been less than an hour because it seemed like much longer. _Time flies when you're having fun_, she thought to herself bitterly. She entertained herself by studying the people waiting with her.

Teyla sat in the chair next to her, her eyes half closed, her face relaxed, as though she were meditating. Knowing Teyla, she probably was.

Ronon stood in the same place he'd been for the last fifteen minutes, his left shoulder leaned against the wall and positioned so that he could see all entrances into the room. Elizabeth was certain that wasn't an accident because she had noticed him doing the same thing on other occasions. The habits of a runner died hard.

Rodney paced a circle around the waiting area, completing the circuit five times before he retook the chair across from her. He managed to remain still for about thirty seconds before he began bouncing his feet up and down. After a few minutes of that, he rubbed his hands together a couple of times and then ran them down his pants legs. He sat suspended for a few seconds before jumping to his feet and repeating the pattern exactly. Elizabeth wasn't sure whether to laugh or be worried.

The sudden appearance of Carson jerked her thoughts back to the reason they were there. She couldn't help asking the automatic question. "Carson, how is he?" The smile she got in return made her think he'd been expecting it. Looking at her friends, she realized they had all been expecting it, waiting on her to be the one to ask what they all wanted to know.

"He's fine. Well, maybe not fine, but he's on his way to getting there. We've put in the chest tube and the blood is draining well. Quite a bit had built up, so it may take a while. We're replacing the blood and fluids and giving him a round of antibiotics." Carson hesitated a second before continuing. "We've put him on a ventilator for a while, just as a precaution."

Rodney's face took on a panicked look as his eyes widened and his jaw slackened for a moment. "A ventilator?" he asked softly.

Carson nodded while patting the air with his hand. "Now don't get all panicked on me, Rodney. The blood is in the space around the right lung, making it hard for him to breathe. It's a bit like trying to blow up a balloon while it's in a tin can. No matter how hard you try, there's only so much space in that can. With the blood occupying part of the pleural cavity, there isn't much room to expand the lung. The ventilator will not only increase the oxygen supply, but it also takes the workload off his injured tissues, giving them a chance to heal."

Rodney seemed to relax a bit as he gave a quiet nod.

"May we see him" asked Teyla, hope carried in the tone of her voice.

Carson smiled and gave a short nod. "Aye, I expected you might want to. Just remember, it's not as bad as it probably looks this time around. This is really not that uncommon a injury and he should be just fine in a few days."

Carson led them through some doors to one of the main patient areas. Even though he had explained what to expect, Elizabeth still found herself caught off guard. She paused near the foot of the bed, taking in the monitors, IV, blood transfusion, and the ventilator. Following Rodney's eyes, she saw the tube emerging from John's right side, filled with bloody fluid on its downward journey. Surrounding the bandages protecting the invading chest tube, bruises of varying size and intensity covered his right side and stretched across the lower part of his chest, leaving them to wonder just how hard he had impacted the shuttle's console.

"Oh, Carson," she breathed softly. "I didn't realize."

Carson laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "None of us did. I don't remember the bruising being that bad when I examined him, but sometimes these things take time to manifest themselves.

Ronon shifted uncomfortably. "He got knocked down in the gym yesterday. Could that have caused this?"

Carson tensed and frowned at the Satedan. "What do you mean by knocked down and what was he doing in the gym? He was supposed to be taking it easy and resting."

Ronon shook his head. "My fault, Doc. He saw me sparring with some marines and made me stop. We were just talking and one of the guys got hit hard enough to come off the mat and into Sheppard. It knocked us both to the ground and he . . . seemed a little fuzzy for a few moments afterward."

"And why didn't he come to the infirmary so I could examine him?" asked Carson sharply.

Ronon shrugged his shoulders. "He seemed okay after a few seconds. Neither of us thought it was needed."

"And exactly what made you think you should be sparring after I told you to let that shoulder heal? Did you not realize you're risking harming yourself even further? What is wrong with you people?"

"Sorry, Doc. I didn't think it would hurt."

"That was your first mistake," commented Rodney. "Thinking."

Carson sighed loudly and shook his head sadly. "I don't know why I try."

Ronon continued to look at the doctor. He finally glanced back down at Sheppard, watching the ventilator breathe for his friend. "Did that make it worse?"

Carson shrugged his shoulders this time. "It's possible. I don't think that was enough to cause the hemothorax, but I suppose it could have aggravated the condition. If you're asking me if he would still be here without that happening, my answer is probably. There's no way to tell, so there's no point in worrying about it."

Ronon nodded, letting out a deep breath. Elizabeth was pretty sure that was relief she saw on his face.

"All right, you've all seen him now, so out with you. He needs to rest and we need to keep an eye on him. There's no point in any of you hanging around waiting on him to wake up. I'll not take him off the ventilator before tomorrow and I'll be keeping him sedated until then. You can check back with me later if you like."

Elizabeth smiled. "We'll be back later, Carson, and thank you."

"Aye, I know you will. Driving me and my staff crazy, no doubt. And you're welcome."

oOo

Rodney led the way to the infirmary, with Ronon and Teyla right behind him. True to Carson's prediction, they had just about driven the doctor and his staff crazy, dropping in one at a time the rest of the day for updates on John's condition. It didn't matter that they got the same report each and every time. They simply radioed everyone else of their findings and an hour or so later, another team member would check up on their CO. In the end, Carson finally admitted it would have been easier just to let them lurk and promised if they stayed away until after breakfast the next morning, he'd let them hang around. It was now after breakfast and Rodney smiled at the knowledge they could actually stay and be there for the colonel when he woke up.

Rodney entered the infirmary and went straight for John's bed. The only problem was that John's bed wasn't there. He turned around in a complete circle, but didn't spot any stray lieutenant colonels anywhere in the room. Ronon and Teyla studied the room as they approached him.

"Where's Sheppard?" asked Ronon.

Rodney sighed and slumped his head forward and a little to his left. "And you think I can answer that why? I entered the room about ten seconds in front of you and he wasn't here then either. You're the tracker, you tell me."

"Dr. McKay?"

Rodney whirled around to see a short nurse with dark hair tied in a bun approaching. He remembered seeing her a few times, but had no idea of her name.

"Hey, where's Sheppard?"

The nurse stopped in front of them, looking a bit nervous. "You got here a bit earlier than I expected. I was just about to call you. Dr. Beckett had to take Colonel Sheppard to surgery a few minutes ago. He was still bleeding internally and his condition was beginning to deteriorate. Dr. Beckett said to tell you he needed to find the source of the bleeding and get it stopped."

"Well, crap," Rodney said, shaking his head. "Have you called Dr. Weir?"

The nurse shook her head. "Not yet."

"Don't. I'll do it," said Rodney.

The nurse gave a small smile, seeming grateful. "Thank you, Dr. McKay. You and the others can wait outside. Dr. Beckett will let you know when they're done."

Three long faces on slumped bodies slowly retreated back to the waiting area and found a seat. "Back to square one," said Rodney as he reached for his radio.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: **BIG THANKS to all of you reading and reviewing. You have that big, goofy grin plastered on my face again.

The Trouble with Crash Landings - Chapter 3

"Hey, you!" Rodney called to the nurse walking near where the team and Elizabeth waited for Sheppard to get out of surgery. "Amy, right?" he asked, recognizing her when she turned to face him.

"Yes, that's right Dr. McKay."

"I was wondering what's taking so long. Is something wrong?"

Amy smiled and shook her head. "No, I'm sure everything is fine. It really hasn't been that long."

Rodney shifted his weight nervously from one foot to the other and then back again. "He was in there less than an hour yesterday and it's been way longer than that already."

Amy nodded, her face remaining calm and undisturbed. "I know, but the colonel was only having a tube thora- . . . uh, a chest tube put in yesterday. That's a relatively simple procedure and doesn't take long to do. He's having surgery to find and stop the source of bleeding this time and that is a lot more invasive and complicated, so it stands to reason it will take longer."

Rodney let out a long breath, looking glumly at the floor. "Oh."

Amy smiled and patted Rodney on the arm. "You know Dr. Beckett will take excellent care of the colonel. He always does. I don't think it will be much longer, but I can check if you'd like."

Rodney looked back up at her, his expression hopeful. "You could do that?"

"I can get a rough estimate. Just give me a few minutes."

Rodney watched her walk across the room and through the doors at the other side. "She's going to find out how much longer," he told the others as he turned to face them. Three heads nodded silently, their expressions tense with worry.

Amy returned a few minutes later, addressing the four people waiting for news. "Dr. Beckett says he's found the source of the bleeding and just finished repairing it. He's just having a second look to make sure he didn't miss anything and then he'll be closing. It shouldn't be long now."

"Thank you, Amy," said Elizabeth.

"Yeah, thanks," echoed Rodney as he began pacing.

Elizabeth watched for a few minutes before getting up and moving to stand in the scientist's way. "Rodney, why don't we go get a cup of coffee?"

Rodney shook his head. "No, we can't leave. As soon as we get down the hall, Carson will get done and come out and we will have missed it."

"No, you heard Amy. Carson has to check for more causes of bleeding and then close John up. You know how careful he is as well as I do. We have time to walk to the mess hall and back and it will make the time pass faster. Come on." She hooked her arm around his and gently pulled him toward the door.

"Go," said Teyla. "If Dr. Beckett gets through before you return, we will radio you and have him wait."

Rodney raised his eyebrows. "Really? You'd do that?"

Teyla nodded. "Yes, we . . . promise."

Rodney frowned in concentration and then nodded. "All right, but you call me if he comes out and have Ronon pin him to the floor if necessary to keep him here."

Ronon grinned. "Cool. I can do that."

Elizabeth turned her head quickly to hide the smile spreading across her face. Composing herself, she once again tugged on Rodney's arm. "You coming?"

"Okay, okay, I'm coming. Really, Elizabeth, you don't have to throw yourself at me like this." Rodney pulled his arm away from a stunned expedition leader and marched out of the infirmary. Elizabeth just shook her head and followed him.

"These people are so odd," said Ronon, watching them leave and then shifting his gaze to Teyla.

Teyla sighed. "There are times that I would have to agree with you. But . . . they are good people. They are worthy of our friendship . . . of our trust."

Ronon looked at her silently for several moments before nodding. "I know."

"Psst! Is he out yet?"

Ronon and Teyla glanced at the door to see Rodney's head leaning around the edge of the door, eyes darting around the room.

"No!" They said simultaneously.

Rodney looked disappointed. "Oh."

Rodney and Elizabeth made it back to the infirmary a full ten minutes before Carson put in an appearance.

"I wasn't aware that Rodney could move that fast," Elizabeth whispered to Teyla as they waited for the doctor.

"I heard that," said Rodney sharply, turning to face them. "I can move as fast as the next person when there's a reason. I just don't see any point to hurrying when you don't need to."

Elizabeth smiled and opened her mouth to reply, but instead pointed across the room. "Carson."

Carson saw them coming and waved them back to their seats, taking one himself. "The surgery went well. He had a couple of damaged vessels that were continually leaking blood into the pleural cavity, but we've repaired all that. His recovery should move much faster now that we've stopped the bleeding. I'll need to give him another unit or so of blood to replace what he's lost, but I don't anticipate any problems."

Rodney snorted. "You _do_ remember who you're talking about, right? You should always anticipate problems."

Carson chuckled. "Yes, I remember. Don't worry, Rodney, we'll be keeping a close eye on him. We'll have him settled in a bit and then you can look in on him. I'll be keeping him on the vent a little longer since we've had this setback, but he should be off it in a day or two."

"He's not going to like that," Ronon mumbled.

"No, probably not, but it's the best thing for him right now. We'll keep him properly under so he's not aware," explained Carson.

"Well, he's done it again. Gave us a scare, but still managed to come out all right," said Elizabeth.

Rodney nodded, frowning a bit. "I just had this discussion with him the other day and told him he was making us old and gray before our time with all this worry."

Elizabeth smiled a little and tilted her head to one side, curiosity in her expression. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he just did what he had to do to protect all of us, that it was who he was and it wasn't going to change. Basically, if you're going to be his friend then you just have to accept that."

"What did you tell him?" asked Teyla softly.

"I told him I didn't necessarily like it . . . but that I could live with that."

Ronon nodded his approval. "Then that's what we'll all do."

oOo

He wasn't sure who had used sandpaper on his throat, but they were in big trouble. Once he got past the fire in his throat, he slowly became aware of the slight tickle of nasal cannula, making him twitch in response.

"Hey, Carson, he's doing that nose crinkle thing again. I think he's waking up."

The loud voice seemed to echo in John's head and he wanted to tell the person to be quiet, but that wasn't happening just yet. The sounds faded and blurred for a while and then came back with increased clarity when he realized someone was touching him. Something cold pressed against his chest, making him draw a breath in a little too quickly. He began coughing, sending spasms of pain rolling through his side and chest. For a while it was just pain, a distinct lack of oxygen, and a jumble of sensations that made no sense. He didn't even have enough thought processes going to panic.

Eventually he was aware of the fact that the pain and need for air had gone, and that the scrambled sounds from before were beginning to clear up again.

"He's all right now, Rodney, he just got a bit choked. My fault really, I think I startled him with the stethoscope."

"You know that thing is a menace. What do you doctors do, put it in the refrigerator before you use it on people to see how high they jump? Some new and cruel reflex test you've developed?"

John heard Carson sigh and he wanted to smile. He tried to say hi as he worked on opening his eyes, but only a small groan escaped his lips.

"Ah, colonel, about time for you to wake up for us. Don't try to talk. We've had you on the ventilator for a bit and I know your throat is sore. I've got some ice chips on the way."

John drifted for a few moments, feeling almost like his mind was totally disconnected from his body. As long as he didn't move, the pain had abated to a tolerable level. The wonder of really good drugs.

"Colonel, I'm going to slip an ice chip in your mouth."

John had grown to appreciate the Scottish doctor knowing what he needed without him having to say it. Especially at times like this, when talking was not a favorable option. The ice slowly melted on his tongue, the cool liquid sliding down his throat, temporarily dousing the fire. He couldn't help the low moan that escaped.

"Your turn, colonel. Eyes open."

John would have sighed if he'd had the energy. Instead, he put all his effort into opening his eyes. It took several tries, but he finally managed to get his lids open. The blurry forms in front of him finally solidified into Rodney and Carson, both with big grins on their faces.

"Good job, colonel. Glad to have you back with us. Nod once if the pain level is tolerable. If not, I can adjust your medication a wee bit."

John gave a slight nod and hoped it was visible.

"Good. I imagine you're wanting to know what's happened. You developed a hemothorax from the injuries you received in the crash. That's where blood accumulates in the space around the lung, pressing on it and not leaving room to expand when you try to breathe. I've inserted a chest tube to drain the blood off and that seems to be working well. We also had to take you to surgery to stop the bleeding. That's why your chest is so sore. We had to put you on the vent for a few days to help you breathe, but you're doing quite well now. Just try to limit movement and talking for a day or two and you'll be fine."

John wanted to tell Carson he was crazy if he thought John capable of movement or talking, but settled for a small frown. He watched Carson check the monitors and his IV before turning back to his patient.

"Everything looks good, colonel. There are some other people who want to say hello, so I'll get out of the way." Carson looked up at Rodney, still standing on the other side of the bed. "Let me know if he needs something and don't tire him out. He still needs a lot of rest."

Carson moved out of John's line of sight and was promptly replaced by Teyla, with Ronon standing behind her. Apparently his whole team had been sitting here waiting for him to wake up. He smiled, trying to breathe through the sudden flood of emotions.

Teyla reached out to grip his hand. "Welcome back, John. We are happy to see that you are getting better."

John gave a small nod, wishing he dared talk. Swallowing was proving such a painful chore that he decided he'd forgo that as long as possible.

Teyla picked up a cup on the table beside the bed. "Dr. Beckett said we could give you ice chips. Would you like another one?"

John smiled and Teyla returned it, slipping one of the frozen marvels between his lips. John closed his eyes and savored the liquid cold it produced. He probably wouldn't agree tomorrow, but at this very moment in time, he thought the relief from the ice was probably better than sex.

oOo

John watched Rodney walk across the infirmary as he took last bite of the casserole of the day from his tray. Elizabeth had obviously seen him too, because she paused in her briefing on what had been going on in Atlantis for the last week and a half.

"Hey, Rodney," said John, grinning.

"Hey yourself, colonel. You look happy today. Something good for lunch?" Rodney's eyes widened as he stopped next to the bed and he reached for the cup of chocolate pudding on John's tray. "Chocolate!"

John promptly slapped his hand, resulting in Rodney jerking it back. "Ow!"

"That is _my_ chocolate pudding, so keep out." John grabbed the small bowl and pulled it closer to him, covering it protectively with his other hand.

"Whatever happened to sharing with your teammate and best friend?" asked Rodney, mock hurt in his voice and expression.

"I'll share something else."

"But I want some of the pudding. I _did_ sit faithfully at your bedside while you fought for your life, you know."

"I wasn't hurt _that _bad, McKay." John continued to cover his pudding, trying to ignore the sad look on his friend's face.

"Fine, eat your pudding. I wouldn't want to cause a relapse or anything. I'd just like to know how you got chocolate. I was there early and all they had was vanilla."

John grinned. "They like me."

"Apparently," Rodney grumbled. "Now, back to my original question. Why are you so happy?"

John dipped his spoon into the pudding and then slipped it into his mouth, making groaning noises as he slurped up the soft chocolate.

Rodney scowled as he crossed his arms. "That's just uncalled for."

John removed the empty spoon and set it on the table, handing the still full dish to Rodney. "You can have it, I was just pulling your leg."

Rodney's eyes widened. "Really? Oh wait, you're going to pull it back at the last minute and make me look stupid, aren't you?"

John laughed. "No, I'm not. You can have it."

"Sometimes I wonder if I've wandered out of Atlantis and into some kind of child daycare center," said Elizabeth.

Rodney took the pudding and the spoon Sheppard offered. He stood looking at the spoon for a few seconds before setting the pudding down and dipping the spoon in Sheppard's water glass. He then wiped it off on the napkin and dipped it in the pudding. "So, why so nice that you give me your pudding?"

"Carson's springing me this afternoon. All my tubes and wires are finally gone and I'm getting around pretty good, as long as I move slowly."

Rodney swallowed a spoonful of pudding. "Are you sure you'll be all right staying by yourself?"

John nodded. "I'll be fine. I'll be taking it easy for a while. I think I can manage going to the bathroom by myself and sitting around reading and watching videos."

"We could come check on you often and bring you meals."

"I think that would be nice," said Elizabeth.

"You guys aren't going to baby me to death, are you?"

Rodney grinned as he scraped the bottom of the bowl for the last bite of pudding. "I'd say the statistical probability of that is pretty high."

"Great," John said sarcastically, but the grin on his face told them he wasn't bothered by the prospect at all.

oOo

John moved the stick in his right hand over his head while bringing his left hand down beside his leg, Teyla's moves mirroring his own as she worked out to his left. His side burned with the motion, but not so much he couldn't stretch through it. They spun around and brought their left hand up in a defensive motion, followed by a strike with the right hand. Sweat was beginning to run down the side of his face and his underused muscles were beginning to tremble.

"I still say we could have just sparred. Carson released me to full duty this morning."

"Shh. Be quiet and concentrate," Teyla scolded.

They continued going through the carefully choreographed motions for another ten minutes before reaching the end and bowing to one another. John's legs felt like wobbly Jell-o as they walked to the bench and drank from their water bottles. Reaching down, he grabbed the small towel lying across his bag and wiped his face, his breathing a lot more labored than he would have liked. He might be back on duty, but he still had a ways to go before he was back to full strength.

"You are doing well, but you must learn to focus on the motions. You are too easily distracted."

John smiled. "I guess that's why you can still kick my butt."

Teyla allowed a slight quiver to the right side of her mouth. "I kick your butt because you do not focus and you do not practice. When you take your training seriously, your skill level will increase accordingly."

"Ouch! Okay, guess I deserved that, for the most part. I still say that no matter how much I practice or how much I focus, I'll still never beat you, at least not in a fair fight."

Teyla smiled. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

John's eyes widened and then quickly narrowed. 'You've been hanging around Cadman, haven't you?"

Teyla gave a small nod. "I have."

"Well, don't listen to anything she has to say."

Teyla grinned and arched one brow. "She has some very interesting insights into . . . certain things."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No, I do not."

John sighed and shook his head. "That's what I was afraid of. I'd have a talk with her if I didn't think it would make things worse. Just try to remember . . . it's Cadman."

Teyla nodded, still smiling. "I will remember."

John looked uncertain, but gave a quick nod anyway. "Hey, I hear Jamus's people are doing well."

"Yes, they are. Major Lorne reports that rebuilding efforts are going well. It is good that you were able to save them."

"Yeah, I just didn't enjoy his idea of motivation. I'm glad it worked out okay though."

Teyla moved to stand in front of him, placing her hand on his shoulders. She leaned forward and he responded by touching his forehead to hers. When they separated, he stood looking at her. "What was that for?"

"Just my way of saying that I am glad you have recovered. I was worried about you for a while. I wish you had told someone that you were injured."

John shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't know. I just thought I was bruised and sore until I couldn't breathe. By then, I guess I was too far gone and couldn't make it to the infirmary."

Teyla seemed to accept this and nodded. "I am just glad that you are all right. And . . . thank you."

John smiled. "No problem. You need to work on the whole not getting taken hostage thing though."

Teyla crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes dangerously. "I think next time we will spar."

John winced. "One of these days, I might learn to keep my big mouth shut."

Teyla smiled as she turned around to collect her things. "I doubt it," she said softly.

THE END

_Yes, that is really the end. Surprised? I decided not to dwell – other fish to fry, other stories to write. Thanks again for being so supportive. You guys truly spoil me – and I LOVE it!_


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